


Of Ashwinder Eggs and Chess

by BetterThanCoffee



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU, Apprenticeship, Friendship, Multi, bros
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-03
Updated: 2015-11-03
Packaged: 2018-04-29 17:44:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5136893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BetterThanCoffee/pseuds/BetterThanCoffee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ron Weasley has a deft and analytical mind, which is not only great for chess, but also potions.  </p>
<p>Or, how Ron Weasley and Severus Snape became bros.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Ashwinder Eggs and Chess

After the Battle of Hogwarts, Severus Snape, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, quickly resigned from his position, and sequestered himself away to his severely neglected cabin by the sea. Severus had originally bough the cabin in this twenties, shortly after the first demise of the Dark Lord, with the intention of renovating it and creating a safe hideaway from the world. Of course, with Dumbledore's schemes and his then new position as Potion Masters at Hogwarts, Severus never did get around to fixing up his property. 

Now, the cabin by the sea looked as old and worn down as Severus himself felt. The siding was peeling off and the foundation was crumbling. Practically all the paint on the facade had cracked and peeled off with time. Even the climbing vines had grown wild, engulfing the house with almost weed-like ferocity. No matter how terrible the outside looked, however, the inside of the house was still quite habitable. In the past, things like physical appearance meant nothing to the Potions Master, but this was a different time, and he was a different man. 

When Severus' entire life was dictated by the whims of both Voldemort and Dumbledore, Severus had no time to pull any sort of pleasure out of life. Now, not only did the man feel good, he wanted to show the rest of the world that no matter what it had thrown at him, he had survived and was still standing. Even during the final battle, when his time was drawing near as Nagini's venom was rushing through his veins, the man did not give up. He had drug himself from the Shrieking Shack out to the edge of the Forbidden Forest where he collapsed. Snape had no idea what he was to do once he had exited the Shrieking Shack, but at the time, he had felt that if he did not leave the building, he would never draw another breath again.

Severus later learned that after he had fallen unconscious at the edge of the forest, Fawkes, Dumbledore's old phoenix companion, had cried into his wound, and then hovered above the man, protecting him from anyone or anything passing by that would want to do him harm. Severus Snape was not a man to believe in luck or in coincidences. Phoenixes are an old and noble breed, and far more magical than any wizard. Severus knew that the phoenix must have called from him so far, despite everyone else's claims that such a feat was ridiculous. Yet, since that fateful day, Fawkes had refused to leave Severus' side, and had become a trusty companion. 

Now that the fight was over, and Severus was free from his binds to the Dark Lord, he had planned to live out his days in peace in his little cabin, brewing potions and expanding his research. Just him, the phoenix, and the sea. This plan worked out perfectly for several years, but of course, fate was never so kind to dear Severus, as evident by the scruffy Great Horned Owl that waited for him besides Fawkes on a calm, Fall morning.

“Shoo,” Severus swatted at the bird. “If you come carrying catalogs or death threats, I can tell you now that I have reached my maximum tolerance for both, so you might as well be on your way.”

The owl ruffled up his feather in indignation, and Fawkes carefully hopped off his perch, not wanting to be anywhere near the irritated owl. The owl thrust his leg out, practically shaking the letter in Severus' face. The potion master signed in resignation, and as soon as his nimble fingers plucked the letter from the owl, the bird flew away in a flurry of feathers, his sharp talons barely nicking the skin of Severus' knuckles.

“Bloody bird,” Severus muttered to himself, before turning his attention back to the letter. Right away, the seal of an Ashwinder curled around an elm branch caught his attention. It was the emblem of the Potion Masters Guild. Severus heard from the guild every five years to update them on his ongoing research of retain his mastery. The last examination was two years, and any correspondence outside of these mandatory exams were unheard of.

“Don't be a Hufflepuff,” Severus scolded himself. There was no reason to be nervous. If they didn't take away his master status with the whole debacle with the Dark Lord and murdering one of the most beloved wizards of Wizarding Britain, he doubted that his quiet life in the countryside would warrant any sort of retribution. 

Whatever sort of farcical situation Severus could come up with, it would have never even come close to the truth. The letter enclosed read:

Dearest Potion Master Severus Snape,

Due to recent education reforms that ministry has made in regards to higher education (see article 357.92), the requirements for retaining a mastery in any sort of wizarding arts or enchantments have changed. Acting in accordance to article 357.92, we are assigning you an apprentice for the duration of one full year. Only after said year has been completed, and your apprentice has passed all necessary examinations required to achieve master stasis, shall the new laws passed by the ministry be fulfilled.

Your newly assigned apprentice will arrive in one weeks time. We are sorry for any sort of inconvenience this may have caused.

Much regards,  
Octavius Reynolds  
Potion Masters Guild President

Severus growled under his breath, wondering what Shacklebot was doing with his newly appointed position as minister. The man made a note to grill the minister about it later. He vaguely remembers reading an article in the Prophet about students trying to achieve masters in a certain art must learn from someone accomplished in said art, instead of a self-study, as Severus himself did. The man barely paid attention to said article, however, as he never expected that it would directly effect himself. With the law in motion, stampeding towards Severus with the speed of an out-of-control locomotive, Severus knew that he could kiss his plan for a relaxing existence goodbye. The man had really wanted to start tackling the vines on his house, too.

Considering that up until the Battle of Hogwarts, Severus had taught potions to the majority of wizarding Britain, the old Slytherin had come up with a list of potential candidates that might be vying for a mastery in potions. Perhaps it was Charlotte Biddle, a quiet half-blood Slytherin that always kept her head down, and her work station clean. Or maybe it was Herbert Pennysworth, a loud, brash Ravenclaw, who had a surprisingly deft hand. Hell, even the batty Lovegood girl had a keen sense when it came to potions. What he did not expect was that blasted Weasley – especially the one Weasley who habitually underachieved in his class for six years!

“What are you doing here, Weasley?” Severus barked, blocking the entrance to his home with his body, not giving the Gryffindor any chance to slip inside. Fawkes trilled in the background, seemingly amused by the entire situation.

“What's it look like I'm doing here?” Weasley grouched back, shift the heavy pack on his back to keep it from slipping out of his grip. 

Snape exhaled slowly from his nostrils. “I assume it's not for tea.”

The red head blinked, caught off-guard by what appeared to be a joke that was just uttered out of the potion master's mouth. “Look, I can't join the guild until I am taught by a master. The guild assigned you to me, and no, we can't changed the assignment.” Ron blew a lock of stray hair out of his eyes. “Trust me, I tried.”

Severus curled up his lip in a sneer, “Try that one again on someone who didn't constantly watch you botch up elementary level potions for years.”

The youngest Weasley boy smirked, like he knew some secret that Severus was not privy to. “Turns out I'm pretty good when I don't have some bat hovering over my shoulder.”

With that being said, Ron pushed past Severus to make his way into the house. Just as the Gryffindor was trying to slide by, Severus dug his long, bony fingers into the boy's shoulder. “Just because you are out of Hogwarts and live in the back pocket of our supposed 'savior,'” Severus could barely contain his gag at the word, “Don't think that it makes you immune to any and all sort of punishments that I see fit. Keep in mind, Weasley, that you are my student and I expect you to treat me with respect.” Severus straightened up, releasing the boy from his grasp. “Or would you like me to tell the Guild how you failed to meet any sort of expectations of a potions master?”

Severus expected the boy to explode. Over the years, Severus had found himself in the front-row seats to the infamous Weasley temper, and he could tell you that the youngest boy inherited such temper in spades. As it was, Severus was surprised that instead of immediately charging at the man, or perhaps leaving his abode entirely in an angry huff, the boy merely cocked his head to the side, rolling Severus' words over in his head.

“You expect me to fail, don't you?”

Severus almost felt himself grin. “Look at that. You can learn.”

Weasley inhaled and exhaled slowly to keep his emotions in check, and Severus got some twisted sort of satisfaction knowing that he rattled the boy. The young boy's eyes wandered the room, until they seemed to focus on an object in the corner.

“Alright, Snape, I'll cut you a deal. I know how much you Slytherins love to bet.”

“And what do you wager?” Severus crossed his arms over himself. This was just getting interesting.

“A game of chess,” Weasley nodded to the old board in the corner, used more as a pedestal for dust than anything else. “If you win, I will leave, and deal with whatever consequences the Guild gives me for not completing my mastery.”

“And if I lose?” Severus drawled out, as if amused by the mere option.

“You have to teach me. Forget whatever nonsense you believed from Hogwarts, and teach me as if I was a new student you had never met.”

Severus rolled his shoulders, thinking his options over. He could recall McGonagall mentioning the boy's talent in the area, but as a Gryffindor, he was naturally too opening. Severus doubted the boy had the strategy or the skill to beat an old spy like himself. After all, he spent the majority of his life in a giant game of chess between two sides, and only managed to make it out alive because of his own cunning. What chance did this man, no- child, have?

* * *

Severus lost. Severus Snape, youngest potions master in history, spy for the Light, and former Death Eater, lost. To a Weasley, no less.

“So, Snape,” Weasley drawled out, leaning back in his chair looking far too satisfied. Fawkes was perched on the Weasley's shoulder, as if siding with the boy over the old potion's master. “When do we start?”

It turned out, Weasley really did have a deft and analytic mind, which was perfect for potions. Apparently, in his eighth year, Weasley found an interest in potions when he started to realize the applications in the healing field, and put all his effort behind his studies, quickly pulling ahead to become the top potions student in the school. What frustrated Snape was that such dedication was never seen in any of Weasley's prior years of school, and his time with the potions master now did not make up for six years of mediocrity. 

Much to Severus' chagrin, Weasley was an excellent student. His technique was practically flawless, and during brewing, Severus only had to give him minute directions to lead him on. They worked in absolute silence, with the sound of the cauldron brewing as their soundtrack, with the occasional song from the phoenix to break up the monotony. As little as Severus wanted to admit it, Weasley would have been a perfect student, if it wasn't for his hard-headedness when it came to the theoretics of potions. Weasley believed anything was possible with just a little bit of hope (and yes, Severus knew how ridiculous that sounded), completely ignoring the basic principles of potions making that have been in place for centuries.

“And all I'm saying is that if we change the reacting agent in the Wolfsbane potion, that maybe we can lessen the side-effects and pain werewolves go through when the moon is waxing. The use of the Wolfsbane potion doesn't have to be limited to just the full moon!” Weasley snarled, rehashing an old argument between them.

“And all I'M saying is that is not how the potion works! Changing the reacting agent won't give us magical new properties of the Wolfsbane potion, but instead change the entire element of the potion completely!” Severus screamed back.

“How would you know if you never tried? Wolfsbane works by slightly poisoning the werewolf, keeping it docile, while not completely killing it. Adding raw Ashwinder eggs instead of elm root would nullifying the potions effect, without completely weakening it. AND the Ashwinder eggs would also act as a painkiller.”

“Ashwinder eggs are far too delicate for a potion as volatile as Wolfsbane!” Severus felt like he was turning blue in the face. How many times must he make this argument? Why couldn't Weasley see how wrong he was?

Weasley huffed, squaring his shoulders. “Fine. One game of chess. You win, I forget about the potion completely, but if I win, we try changing the reacting agent.”

Severus thought this proposition over carefully. Last time, he greatly underestimated the boy's abilities. The boy was good, great if Severus felt in a generous mood, but he was still just a child and inexperienced. The Slytherin just had to out-maneuver a nineteen year old boy. How hard could it be?

* * *

The Weasley must have had some seer in his bloodline, because no matter what Severus did, he always seemed at least four moves ahead of him. All Severus could do was stare at the board in bafflement, having no clue how the Weasley boy bested him yet again. Across the board, Weasley was staring right back at his potions professor, with a smirk on his face to rival that of a Malfoys'.

“This isn't over, Weasley,” Severus finally spoke after remaining silent for their game.

“Why, you wanna try for best two out of three?” If the boy's voice could possibly be more condescending than it was in that very moment, Severus believed that the boy's Gryffindor card would have to be revoked out of principle. 

When Weasley's experiment failed, Severus almost felt sorry for the boy. He had conviction, Severus had to give him that, and the drive to not only learn, but create. A potion's master wasn't just someone who could follow a formula to a T, but also expand beyond that, to create bigger and better legacies past what they had learned in school.

Severus was not sure what possessed him to say what he said next. “Your idea wasn't bad, Weasley, it just wasn't theoretically sound given the base elements of this potion.”

The moment the words left his lips, Severus could practically feel Dumbledore rising from his grave to give him that damn eye twinkle of his for praising a Gryffindor, and not just any Gryffindor, but one that lived in Potter's back pocket. 

Weasley blinked slowly, as if cautiously appraising the situation. He had to approach slowly. Start with a pawn, and not just barge straight ahead with a rook. “Thanks, sir.” Weasley paused, licking his lips. “Do you – I mean, might you have any idea of what we could alter in the Wolfsbane potion to give a werewolf more relief outside of the full moon?”

“It's impossible.” Weasley's shoulders dropped with Severus' gruff reply. “It's impossible with the Wolfsbane potion, however, we might be able to formulate a completely new potion to suit a werewolf's individual need.”

While that statement was true, it would probably take years of research to even get a start. A traditional pain potion has no effect on a werewolf, even when not under the full moon. Their unique physiology means that their bodies process through potions much differently than a typical humans would. Most pain potions either might as well be water, or are incredibly poisonous.

Yet Severus did not say any of this. It was quite likely that Weasley already knew all this, as he had come this far in his mastery. Severus remembered the boy mentioning it was the healing properties of potions that got him interested in this field. Severus wondered if this was his goal all along, but he was confused, as the only werewolf the pair mutually knew was Lupin, and he was long dead.

Weasley was already scribbling notes across one of the chalkboards that lined Severus' personal potions lab. “Man, I can't wait to tell Bill about this. He kept saying I wouldn't find anything!”

That caught Severus' attention. William was perhaps the most intelligent and bearable of all the Weasley children, and if Severus remembered correctly, this was the same son that was attacked by Greyback, only – “I did not think your brother was infected.”

Weasley's excited scribbled faltered for a second, before he continued on as if nothing was the matter. “He's not a werewolf, if that's what you mean. But he's not exactly human, either.”

“I see.” For several moments, neither said a single word. “Have you looked into the properties of ashwaganda? That may be a start.”

With that very olive branch, Ron Weasley and Severus Snape built a working friendship of sorts. Ron would rattle off various ideas, each more ludicrous than the last, and Severus would either shoot them down, or build upon them, until it ultimately (and usually, quite literally) blew up in their faces. If tensions ever rose too high, instead of screaming each other, or trying to condemn one to detention (Severus had tried, and Ron had just laughed in his face), they got out all their anger and frustration by watching the chess pieces obliterate each other. Of course, Severus had yet to win a single match.

One day, Ron came storming into Severus' house, flustered, and looking more ready to explode. Severus felt it was safest to keep him away from potions at the moment, and lead him straight over to the chess board. At least in this scenario, Severus got to keep all of his fingers.

“Snape, you're like a real adult.”

Severus arched one eyebrow. “I suppose.”

“Then perhaps you can help me. Why is everyone so obsessed with marriage?”

Severus moved his knight, capturing one of Ron's bishops. It was a sloppy move on the red-heads part, but Severus was not naive enough to believe that it wasn't anything less than a carefully calculated plot. “I suspect you are talking about Potter's engagement to your sister.”

“Look, I love Harry like a brother, and I'm happy for him and my sister. Really, I am, but now its got Hermione talking about marriage! What am I supposed to do?” One of Ron's rooks carefully slid forward, placing Severus in check.

“And here I thought the Granger girl would never get her nose out of a book long enough to even consider nuptials.” Severus' king quickly retreated one step, making him safe – for now.

“Right! I thought I had a few years, considering I'm doing this, and she's still in training to be an Unspeakable, but no! Suddenly she's trying to be all subtle and hinting at thing, and I don't know how well you observed Hermione over the years, but subtle is not one word I would associate with her.”

Severus could vaguely recall her 'subtle' attempts to free the house elves by hiding knitted monstrosities around the castle. He was beginning to see Weasley's dilemma, but was more focused on his own as his very last knight was taken out. “And I suspect leaving her is not an option.”

“Hell no!” Ron cried out a little too loudly, leaving a ringing in Severus' ears. “I love Hermione, I really do. It's just, I'm only nineteen! Why do I have to be thinking about marriage? I mean, Seamus is still only concerned about getting his leg up on a new girl every weekend. That's what a nineteen year old is thinking about, not China patterns.”

“Well aren't you already getting your leg up on Granger?” Ron was so shocked by Severus' insinuations, that he made in error in his next move, allowing Severus to take his queen. 

Ron knew he was in trouble, and thus decided to distract his mentor in the fastest, probably most Slytherin way he could think of. “So you had a thing for Harry's mom, right?”

Severus' hackles rose, yet Ron's eyes flickered to the board, noting that his master was no longer examining with quite as much intensity. “My love and devotion to Lily Evans was much more than a mere “thing,” Mr. Weasley.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. So, what, you never tried to go out with anyone else?” Ron put Severus' back in check. “Just pined after her for years?”

“Just because I did and always will love Lily Evans with all my heart, does not mean I am celibate,” And with one move, Severus brought himself out of check, and trapped Weasley in his own ploy.

“Woah, woah, that was present tense! You're fucking someone!” Severus' king was trapped again. “Who is it?”

“I do not see how that is any of your concern.”

“Is it someone I know? Were they part of the Order?”

“Silence, Weasley.” Severus was beginning to sweat.

“You gotta tell me.”

“I owe you nothing.” 

Ron shrugged, his fingers tracing the edges of one of his few remaining pawns, “I don't know why it is such a big deal, I mean, if you really ARE fucking someone.”

Severus almost felt like he was back in school. Just because he was this boy's professor for so many years, did not mean that his dick had completely shriveled off in the potion's fumes. “Why would I lie?”

Ron's lip quirked. Just one more move, and he would have his checkmate. “Who knows? Maybe there is some part of you that is trying to garner approval from your student. The same very GRYFFINDOR student that caused you so much misery over the years. The same very student that, while you believe to be intellectually incapable, still beats you at chess, a game all about patience and strategy, every single time. The same student that-”

“Shacklebot, okay?”

Everything stopped for a brief instance, except the pieces on the board as they reset themselves now that the game was over. “YOU'RE FUCKING THE MINISTER?” 

Severus crossed his arms over his chest, pointing his chin in the air. “I do not see how that is any of your business.”

Ron had no idea what the correct response to this situation was. His mind was still whirling with the thought that his greasy potions professor was getting it on with the country's most powerful wizard. Of course, Ron never had a very good filter, and probably one of his more unhinged thoughts made it out of his mouth, unbidden, without the boy's permission. “Shacklebot is really attractive, ya know, for a man. Go you.”

Severus did not know if he had finally cracked, because the man found himself doubled over, laughing at his student. 

“Uh, Snape, are you okay?”

Severus could not remember the last time he had ever laughed this hard. He couldn't even remember the last time he had laughed at all. Tears were leaking out of the corner of his eyes, and his stomach was starting to hurt. Ron remained motionless, with a panicked look glued to his face.

“Come on, Weasley,” Severus finally managed to get out, wiping the tears from his face. “You said you wanted to try dried goat's whey in the base of the potion. No use in wasting sunlight.”

It must have been a sign of a new turn in their relationship, because when Ron said, “Like you've ever seen the sun,” Severus found himself filled with a fond exasperation rather than complete ire. Severus was starting to understand why Dumbledore was so fond of teaching for all of those years. And if Severus kept his comments to himself when Hermione came over in person to invite him to her and Ron's wedding, then that was his prerogative.. Just as when Shacklebot popped by to drop off some very important paperwork, Ron only discreetly elbowed his master, before making himself scarce, citing time-sensitive research. The end of Ron's apprenticeship came and went, and yet one could still find Mister Ron Weasley hunched over a cauldron with one Mister Severus Snape, arguing over werewolf-safe substitutions in everyday healing potions. The old potion's master never did get around to clearing the vines off of his house.


End file.
